


bandages

by heaven_severed



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, and a little bit of pining, as a treat, i am..........thinking, i guess?, in the bandages..., the tuft of stan's hair..., this is just straight up fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:53:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22911295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heaven_severed/pseuds/heaven_severed
Summary: No one else knew, but Stanley Uris may have had the slightest, smallest crush on Mike Hanlon ever since that day at the Barrens. Okay, maybe Richie knew. He certainly wanted to pretend he did. Whenever there was an opportunity, he would bring it up.
Relationships: Mike Hanlon/Stanley Uris, Minor Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak
Comments: 12
Kudos: 61





	bandages

_August 24th, 1989._

Stanley Uris had stuck to routines all his life. His parents were glad that he was such an organised child, it certainly took some of the stress off of their shoulders. It was a little nerdy, but he used to keep a detailed planner with extensive to-do lists. These planners of course, would never see the light of day. He should probably burn them, just to make sure that _no one_ ever sees them.

  
So it really was no surprise that he was very meticulous when it came to his bandages. While it wasn’t ideal that he had to use them in the first place, there was no way in _hell_ that he’d let anything prolong his need for them. Although he did have to admit that it was kind of…a cute look. Beverly had told him that it framed his face in a nice way. Richie, on the other hand, wouldn’t let him live it down. Eddie had slapped a hand over Richie’s mouth and assured him that it would make for a cool scar, and that guys would "dig it". He had rolled his eyes in the moment, but he secretly wished that a certain someone would find the scars attractive. His heart started pounding in his chest when that thought had escaped from his subconscious into the forefront of his mind.

No one else knew, but Stanley Uris may have had the slightest, smallest crush on Mike Hanlon ever since that day at the Barrens. Okay, maybe Richie knew. He certainly wanted to pretend he did. Whenever there was an opportunity, he would bring it up.

“You should go to Florida with Mike.” Richie had said casually, just barely looking up from his comic book.

Stan was slightly preoccupied with staring at Mike as he talked, his heart doing flips seeing the dreamy smile on his face as he shared his desires to live in Florida, to leave Derry. Richie’s words hadn’t processed in his brain - but when they did, he felt like his face was on fire. Was he really that obvious about it? He glanced at Mike, to see if there was even a hint of disgust on his face at the prospect of living with Stan. There wasn’t, just a raised eyebrow and an amused smile. Oh, his smile.

“You already act eighty, you’ll clean up with all the grandmas.”

Thank god, maybe he didn't know.

"Haha, very funny.” He threw the closest thing he had, which happened to be a small paperback of bird species in North America.

“Ow! God damn it Staniel!” He heard Bill, Bev and Ben chuckling from the other side of the clubhouse before returning to securing the posts and other maintenance. Ben wasn’t a seasoned construction worker, after all.

//

_August 30th 1989._

It was a day at the Quarry but Stan had decided he would stay out of the water this time. Wouldn’t want to get his bandages wet. Eddie had gone on a long, but endearing, rant about all of the bacteria that could be found in the lake that would “definitely get into your bandages and then into your wounds and then you’ll have to- to cut your fucking face off, Stan!” 

He laid back, basking in the warmth of the summer sun. Bev was laying down next to him, her signature sunglasses obscuring her eyes. She had Ben’s radio, humming along to the music, looking effortlessly cool and carefree. Beverly Marsh had such an aura about her, something that made you want to trust her. 

“Bev, can I ask you something?”

She took off her sunglasses and rolled onto her side.

“Shoot.”

“You…you have to promise you won’t say anything. Especially to Richie, he would haunt me with this for the rest of my life.” That made her laugh. She extended a pinkie to him, which he locked with his, smiling.

“Now tell me, Stanny, or else this’ll haunt _me_ ,” She stared up at him and he knew that she wouldn’t judge him, “and I’m not a big fan of ghosts.”

He leaned back on his palms, staring out at the water, where their friends were splashing around. Bill had just dunked Eddie, who resurfaced yelling curses that Stan wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before. Bev let out an endeared sigh at their antics.

“You remember that day at the clubhouse before, right?” She thinks for a second before grinning.

“You mean when Eddie was trying to take the hammock back from Richie but seemed _awfully_ happy to just sit in there with him?” Stan rolled his eyes. Those two were perhaps the most oblivious people he’d ever met. Although, maybe that was hypocritical of him.

“Well, yeah. But not that specifically. Think again.”

“Bold of you to assume that I have thoughts.” Stan snorted at that. 

“You aren’t Bill, don’t worry, I’m sure you have some thoughts left.” She laughed in return.

“Okay,” she said, bringing herself into a sitting position, “Does it have something to do with Richie making fun of you?”

There it is.

“Yeah.” She turned to him, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. 

“Let me guess…” she said, bringing a hand up to her chin as if she were deep in thought, “You have a crush on our dearest Michael, and you _would_ like to go to Florida with him.” Stan covered his face with his hands, trying to hide the blush that had rapidly spread across his face. 

“Am I obvious about it?” This, apparently, was funnier to Bev than anything he’d said today.

“Honey, you kind of are,” He groaned, and Bev rested a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry though, you aren’t half as bad as Richie and Eddie.”

“Oh thank god,” he sighed exaggeratedly. Suddenly, Bev sprung up, stripping off her shorts, leaving her in an oversized t-shirt.

“Come on, I’m sure you can splash around in the water without getting your bandages wet.” She offered a hand to him, which he took reluctantly.

As he waded his way to the other losers with Bev, he could hear Richie hollering from the other side of the Quarry in his best (worst) English accent: “Staniel Urine! Lovely of you to join us on this fine August day!”

When he finally reached the others, he stared all of them down.

“If any of you motherfuckers get my bandages wet I’ll have to kill you.”

Stanley Uris wouldn’t like to admit how his heart skipped a beat when he saw the bemused smile Mike had shot his way - like fucking Cupid and his dumbass arrows. He had also chosen to ignore the side-eye Bev had given him when she noticed the blush on his face.

They played a couple games of chicken but Stan vehemently refused to be the wrestler. Admittedly, he didn’t have the greatest upper-arm strength and knew that Bill, Ben or even Richie ‘Noodle-arms’ Tozier could easily overpower him. It was him versus Mike. He had glared at Bev when she suggested the teams, Eddie and him against Bev and Mike. Those two were a powerful duo. Mike’s farm work had left him with great balance and strong arms. Not that he’d ever noticed them, or anything. And Bev, despite not being overly strong in her arms, had enough spite packed in her to somehow keep her from losing. As they played, Stan trying his hardest to keep Eddie on his shoulders, he desperately avoided making eye contact with Mike. He knew that the moment he locked eyes with him he would drop Eddie into the water and pass out. But he could feel Mike staring at him, and wow. He looked so free, grinning as Eddie and Bev yelled above them. Stan never wanted Mike to have to feel anything less than this, carefree and joyful. 

Inevitably, Richie had splashed water into his face, ruining the bandages he’d spent so much time prepping and that he wasn't due to change until Sunday, according to his mental schedule.

//

“I’m glad you joined us in the end, Stan.” An arrow straight through his heart. The _way_ he said it, and how they had lightly bumped shoulders as they got back to their bikes. It almost gave him the idea that…no. Was it flirting? 

“Yeah, me too.”

“You put up a good fight against Bev and I, even if we are the reigning champions,” He smiled playfully. A jolt of electricity ran up his spine as their hands brushed lightly. 

The losers all said goodbye before going their separate ways, but just as Stan was about to get onto his bike for the long and winding journey home, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“Stan, wait up.” It was Mike, and he felt like the air had been sucked out of his lungs. The setting sun cast a golden glow across his skin - it was like he was seeing an angel. He must have looked like an idiot, just staring at him, dumbfounded and doe-eyed. 

“W-what’s up?” He replied in his _most_ nonchalant and definitely not voice-cracky of tones.

“I, uh, was gonna ask if you wanted to come to my house,” he said, but then realised what he’d said, “I just meant- for your bandages. I’ve picked up a bit of medical knowledge in my days on the farm, and I have the supplies for it.” 

Stan let the words fully process in his head.

_Alone…at Mike’s house…alone with him...in his house._

He wasn’t sure his heart could take it. 

“Yeah, sure.” _Smooth, nice one Stan_

Somehow, even though he was oh-so particular about his routines, Stanley Uris was allowing Mike Hanlon to change them. 

// 

If Stanley Uris didn’t have a crush before, seeing Mike’s bedroom was enough to send him crashing headfirst into full blown crush hell. Everything about it was just so…Mike. He had the photo booth pictures of them and their friends tacked up above his desk with some pressed flowers taped up next to them. Various pictures of him and his family - his parents, grandparents. A couple postcards from relatives. A Queen poster. There was a textbook left open on his desk, with little scribbles in it, a few stray pieces of paper left there too. He could barely make out the sketches: a couple of Bev with Eddie, one of Ben in the clubhouse, attempting to fix something as Bill and Richie look on. But one drawing in particular caught his eye: It…was of _him_ , Stan, just him.

_Do I really…look that peaceful? Is this how he sees me?_

When Mike returned to his room with the gauze and tape, he almost dropped all of it at the sight of Stan in his room, pretty much seeing into his soul. 

“Oh, I…” Stan jumped at the sound and turned a shade of pink he so desperately wished he would stop turning every 5 minutes.

“You drew all of these? They’re incredible,” he breathed, marvelling at his crush friend’s talent.

Mike rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, “Uh, yeah. I’m nothing special- have you _seen_ Bill's drawings?”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re amazing.”

They were silent, making brief eye contact before looking away, flushed. 

“Should we…get started?” Mike asked, moving to his bed and setting the supplies down.

“Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” Stan chuckled nervously, going to join Mike on his bed.

_This…is where he sleeps. Fuck._

Gently, as if Stan were made out of glass, Mike took off his old bandages, revealing the healing marks underneath them. 

“Y’know, I think these are gonna make some pretty cute scars.”

God. How does he just say things like that and expect Stan to stay alive?

“Really?”

Mike picked up an alcohol wipe and, with the faintest touch, started disinfecting the wounds. Stan winced as he did it. Sensing this, Mike grabbed ahold of Stan’s hand, softly drawing circles on the back of it.

“Almost done.”

The stinging faded away and he was left with the slow movement of Mike’s thumb on the back of his hand, calming and tender. Mike unravelled the gauze and started wrapping it around Stan’s face and the back of his head, releasing his hand to run his fingers through his hair, flattening it slightly to keep the bandage down. He was about to tape it down when Stan piped up.

“Wait,” He held the end of the bandage and pulled a tuft of his hair out of it, “there.”

The look that Mike gave him was clouded with an emotion he couldn’t quite pick out. It almost felt like everything was happening in slow motion as Mike leaned forwards and their lips brushed.

In reality, it only lasted a second, but the butterflies in his stomach would keep fluttering for hours afterwards. He felt like his heart was gonna leap out of his chest and a soft “Oh…” escaped his lips as Mike moved back slightly, biting his lip nervously.

“You…you kissed me,” he said, still in disbelief. Mike looked away, a dopey smile on his face.

“Well, I couldn’t not.” 

Stan felt like he was floating above the clouds, soaring through the sky. He laid a hand on the nape of Mike’s neck and leaned forwards again to kiss him, slightly more confident this time. He could feel Mike smiling against his lips and he was transported to a whole other dimension. Finally, he understood what people were talking about when they said they were on cloud nine.

They separated, foreheads still touched together.

“Wow…” they said simultaneously, giggling when they heard each others' voices.

In their loved-up stupor, they forgot to secure the bandages. 

A piece fell down between their faces, and Stan giggled before reaching up to put it back. Mike picked up the medical tape, laughing breathily as he held Stan’s face to secure the gauze.

“There, all good,” Mike said, lightly stroking Stan’s cheek, “Gorgeous.”

Stan fell back onto the bed, covering his face. 

“You can’t just hit me with that! It makes me all ooey-gooey inside!” Mike laid back next to him, taking Stan’s hand and intertwining their fingers.

“I think I like you ooey-gooey. It’s cute.”

“You can’t tell the others about this, you know. I have to keep my reputation as the aloof and sarcastic one.” Mike laughed, turning on his side to kiss Stan’s forehead. 

“I’ll keep it to myself as long as you promise to go out with me on Sunday.” Stan grinned, feeling his heart beat a little faster. 

“I think that’s a promise I could keep.” Mike stared at him, wanting to remember everything about this moment until he was old and gray. Illuminated by the low light of his bedside lamp, Mike Hanlon saw his future in front of him.

“You know, you have the _cutest_ little dimples when you smile like this.” Stan peeked at him through parted fingers, still smiling harder than he ever had before. Mike reached out and poked them lightly, "See? So cute."

“Michael Hanlon I’m going to need you to buy me dinner before you can keep saying things like that!”

“Sunday at 6?”

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! thank you so much for reading. this is pretty much the first fic i've written in full paragraph format so i hope you've enjoyed it. :)! this was just straight up inspired by my friend bree (love u thank you for editing) saying that wyatt oleff had dimples in i am not okay with this (streaming now xoxo), which somehow became 2000 words
> 
> (if anyone reading this is also a reader of my other fic i am SO sorry for the delay lmfao school's been wild, i'll get the next chapter up soon)
> 
> find me on tumblr at aahelvede.tumblr.com :^)


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